


The Sounds of Sunsets and Snowstorms

by SomeoneSensible



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Drabbles mostly, Enjoy this misery, Gen, I don't do that happy shit, M/M, Not too sure what I’m going to do with this yet, There will not be fluff, This will probably just be a collection of small fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29286285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeoneSensible/pseuds/SomeoneSensible
Summary: The highs and lows of living as one of these three sorry fucks, in this sorry town.(I made a playlist with the same name as the series, that’s why it says sounds.)
Relationships: Franklin Clinton/Love and happiness, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But between the distant stare Franklin was giving him and the smell of burnt person...he wasn’t feeling peaceful. 
> 
> Just cold.

He felt like he was on the brink of tears. Perhaps he was. Or maybe not. Michael didn’t really know quite what he was feeling. 

He did know he felt cold. And, considering that he was standing next to a fire, he didn’t think it was due to the weather.

It’s never cold here. 

And it’s strange that, for the first time, he was truly yearning for that feeling. The cold. Then this numb feeling he had in his heart would hold some validity. 

Looking to Franklin, who refused to make eye contact, he felt distant. Franklin couldn’t do it. Glossy eyes stared while the nauseating smell of gasoline filled the air. He was still a kid, this burden being laid on him was already an unfair deal. This was his problem. Always had been.

So he did it for him. 

And it’s not like he _wanted_ to do it. It was just ends to a mean. Between the two of them, he thought the one who _didn’t_ eat people was the greater choice.

Franklin had agreed. He had a family. Mourners. Trevor had...

nothing. 

And that in and of itself was a sad thought, but one he decided to not dwell on for too long. If he did, he’d start to feel guilty and he’d be damned if he were to convince himself there was something to feel guilty about. This is how it was always going to end. 

At least Trevor didn’t have to be alone anymore, wherever he was headed.

When Franklin looks him in the eye again, there’s a sense of unfamiliarity there. His face subtly scrunched up with disgust like he’s reconsidering his decision. And he doesn’t blame him. 

He feels pretty disgusted with himself. 

‘That was your best friend...’

‘He _ate_ people, Frank!’

‘ _He_ was your best friend.’

‘What’s your problem?’ 

‘What’s yours?’

‘Excuse m-‘

‘You don’t even care—, or you’re _really_ bad at showing it. T— _Trevor_ was right about you.’ 

...

Trevor was right about a lot of things. That’s why he was dead, and his death was supposed to afford Michael some peace of mind. 

But between the distant stare Franklin was giving him and the smell of burnt _person_...he wasn’t feeling peaceful. 

Just cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rebranded (kinda) now it’s time to write sad gay fanfiction.


	2. In the end, nothing ever really mattered.

_2013 (Late) August - Vespucci Beach_

“Ah, I have it at home, but _God!_ You should’ve saw it in theaters—, a fuckin’ masterpiece I’m telling you.“ 

Michael was blabbering about something or other. A movie, probably. Leaned against the side of Trevor’s truck, beer in hand. 

Trevor was by his side nursing a beer of his own, but not really paying attention. Michael didn’t seem to notice or was too into himself to care. 

Whatever. 

Trevor’s mind had been elsewhere recently anyway. Ever since shit died down. Since he’d had time to think. 

There’s been...this question that’s been nagging at him. Pestering him whenever he wasn’t distracting himself with something else. 

And it was a redundant one, he and Michael were on good terms now. Bygones and whatnot. But sometimes his mind wandered, and his heart wrung so painfully. 

He just wanted some closure. 

Michael was still rambling, _really_ into whatever the fuck he was talking about. Cute. 

“I told Jimmy about it and he said—“

“Do you regret it?” 

“That he...” Michael paused, “What?” 

“Do you regret it—, I mean, do you wish you’d done things differently?“

Michael didn’t say anything and Trevor didn’t turn his head to meet his gaze. He just felt his stare, hard and slightly confused.

“What are you talking about?” 

Trevor idly traced the mouth of the bottle with his finger. Neither of them spoke for a moment. He sighed, finally turning to look at him. Michael looked away as soon as their eyes met, fumbling with the bottle in his hands. 

“Don’t play dumb, Mikey.” 

“I’m not, I just—“

“If you’re gonna spout bullshit just keep it to yourself. It’s a simple question.” 

Michael recoiled slightly. 

“I...” 

“No? Yes? Christ, you’re a grown man, Michael. Use your fucking words.”

“Maybe— shit, I don’t know! I’m sorry.” 

Trevor stared at him blankly for a moment while Michael floundered under his gaze. 

Hmm. 

Maybe it wasn’t as simple as he thought. 

“That’s fine too, I was just wondering,” Trevor looked away finally, chugging what was left in his bottle, “Doesn’t matter much now anyway.” 

“Sorry...” Michael repeated quietly, eyes closed. It wasn’t meant for him this time and that’s fine. 

Michael had long since owed himself an apology. 

“Sure thing. Wanna get outta here?” 

“Mm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda struggled with this one. 
> 
> I wanted to make Trevor as calm as possible but writing him angry is fun. I also don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.


End file.
